


Strangelove

by HunterByDayWhovianByNight



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Animals, Classical References, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Blood, Nature, Other, Outdoor Sex, POV Will Graham, Poetry, Prose Poem, Pseudobestiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterByDayWhovianByNight/pseuds/HunterByDayWhovianByNight
Summary: "But I felt pantheistic then -- your heart beat in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God's." —Herman MelvilleIf all art and poetry exist as an answer to a question, then perhaps the question is this: How would Will imagine Hannibal during their first time?EDITED: First chapter is a newer version of the poem, the second is the original version.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/The Stag
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. REWRITTEN POEM

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written poetry or anything for this fandom, but I felt the overwhelming urge to do so after finishing season one of Hannibal last night! Please enjoy; all of your explicative and analytical comments of the poem are heavily encouraged in the comments. Title is from "Strangelove" by Depeche Mode.
> 
> ~Hunter
> 
> P.S.: There is listening material to accompany the reading material! My Hannigram playlist can be found [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/273b35ZBiosJKYtG6YDxJY?si=rn-NmIBZRyiJchclPtHREg)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a rewrite of the original poem I wrote! The original can be found in the second chapter.

Expectantly, I lay 

Supine, Sabine in a field, with the stars constellating above my eyes.

The trees are not in my vision, but the night sky is. Orion is there 

And I cannot help but wonder:

Why does Actaeon not have a constellation?

My fishing tackle, the lures and rod, lie discarded beside me, 

Waiting to be picked up again. My clothes 

are off

Because I am lying in wait for the stag—

Am I luring him well enough? Or is he stalking me, 

And allowing me to believe that I am luring him? No matter.

The yellowed, brittle grass and hard, unliving dirt are 

Rough below my disrobed, unprotected body. But the stag… 

The stag makes the earth seem gentle. 

He approaches me, but I feel him before I see him, 

I feel his powerful presence and his hooves against me. 

I am directly below his massive body, 

Sheltercaged by his massive form, 

Securestuck with him in this field.

I shiver and arch my back, cat-like, when 

Reverentdestructive, the stag drags his antlers up my body.

Angularsoft, the antler velvet pierces my skin— 

Deep enough to bleed, shallow enough to not impale.

Blood trickles and gathers in the hollows of my ribs— 

do i dare cry out?

(i do.)

The stag presses his nose to my hand, and I reach up

To touch the underbelly of the stag at his urging, 

Burying my fingers in his mane of fur. I watch, amazed 

When my fingers disappear in the shagginess of it as I hold tight.

I feel the hot exhale of his breath on my face,

The drops of spittle on my neck.

I am acutely aware of the night chill.

I take myself into my hand and stroke

As the stag nuzzles his face against my chest. 

I feel wild. Untamed.

The stag is not a carnivore, but I want him to eat me.

The stag grounds me, his strong legs warm against my hips.

I am warm and flushing, panting and wanting; I sense that

The stag, in his own way, feels what I feel.

He brackets my supine body, waiting expectantly for me. 

And now, now, more than ever, oh— I feel Sabine…

Oh—

Oh—

Oh— the stag presses his wet nose under my chin, urging me on

Like he knows what will happen next.

But Lord, he knows not what he does to me.

I pour out into the dry earth; my right hand grips myself 

And my left grips the belly of the stag.

Breathless, I sit up and hug the leg of the stag, making

Red drip down my chest, making

White and red blend on my belly, my thighs.

The stag seeks me out and hooks his huge, loving head 

Over my shoulder; it is reverent. Loving. 

I bury my face in the stag's breast 

And smile into his muskysweet fur. And I feel safe,    


Safer than ever before.

I allow myself to fall down onto a lush green earth,

Under a faint dawn sky,

And, for the first time, into the eyes of my stag.

I see not an animal’s eyes… but—

A man’s eyes.

And in that single forevermoment, I do not know 

I do not know what terrifies me more:

The body of the stag,

Or the man I see in those eyes. 

(I feel a pang of loss sound through me.

I miss him. I miss the man who  _ was _ **is** my stag.

This stag, for all I know, is him— but it doesn’t feel so anymore.)


	2. REWRITTEN POEM

I lay supine, Sabine expectantly in a field with the stars constellating above my eyes;

The trees are not in my vision but the night sky is. Orion is there and I wonder:

Why does Actaeon not have a constellation?

My fishing tackle, the lures and rod, lie discarded beside me, waiting to be picked up again. My clothes are off

Because I am lying in wait for the stag--

Am I luring him well enough? Or is he stalking me, and allowing me to believe that I am luring him? No matter.

The yellowed, brittle grass and hard, unliving dirt are rough below my disrobed, unprotected body. But the stag… 

The stag is rougher. 

He approaches me, but I feel him before I see him, feel his powerful presence and his hooves against me. 

I am directly below his massive body, sheltercaged by his massive form.

I am securestuck with him in this field.

I shiver and arch my back, cat-like, when the stag drags his antlers up my body.

It feels reverentdestructive when the antler velvet, both angular and soft, pierces my skin.

Blood trickles and gathers in the hollows of my ribs-- do I dare cry out?

(I do.)

I reach up and touch the underbelly of the stag at his urging, burying fingers in his fur.

I watch, amazed, as my fingers disappear as I hold tight to the shagginess of it

As I feel his hot breath exhale on my face, the drops of spittle on my neck.

I am acutely aware of the night chill.

I take myself into my hand and stroke

As the stag nuzzles his face against my chest. I feel a pang of loss sound through me.

I miss him. I miss the man who _was_ **is** my stag.

This stag, for all I know, is him-- but it doesn’t feel so.

I feel wild. Untamed.

The stag is not a carnivore, but I want him to eat me.

The stag grounds me, his strong legs warm against my hips.

I am warm and flushing, panting and wanting; I sense the stag is, too, in his own way.

He brackets my supine body, waiting expectantly for me. 

And now, now, more than ever, oh-- I feel Sabine…

Oh--

Oh-- 

Oh-- the stag knows not what he does.

I pour out into the dry earth; my right hand grips myself and my left grips the belly of the stag.

I sit up and hug the leg of the stag, breathless.

Red and white blend on my stomach, my thighs.

The stag seeks me out and hooks his huge, loving head over my shoulder.

It is reverent. Loving. I smile into the muskysweet fur of the stag and bury my face in him.

I feel safe, safer than ever before.

I allow myself to fall down onto a lush green earth under a faint dawn sky,

And into the eyes of my stag for the first time.

I see not an animal’s eyes… but--

But I see a man’s eyes.

And in that single forevermoment, I do not know what terrifies me more:

The body of the stag I cling to,

Or the man I see in those eyes clinging to me.

**Author's Note:**

> me, in ya brain: kudos/comment on this fic  
> you: but why  
> me, in ya brain: you gotta
> 
> ~Hunter


End file.
